The Thrill of Anarchy

Chapter Seven

I awoke in the back of a moving vehicle. Someone had placed a rough blindfold over my eyes, tinting my view black. Next to me, I could make out Cain's broad shoulders. His head was lolling to the side, which told me he wasn't awake. I was gagged by another piece of fabric and my hands were zip-tied behind my back. Escape from a moving vehicle with bound hands and Cain unconscious would be impossible. I sat back against the cool metal of the vehicle's interior. We were in some sort of van. There were no windows, so I couldn't tell how long I'd been out for or where we were heading. In the opposite corner of the van, sat another male shape. I could see the faint glow of his mobile phone through my blindfold. He was the guard. From the front of the van, I could hear two voices - both male. That made at least three kidnappers. For all I knew, we could be part of a motorcade. I would have to bide my time until the perfect opportunity arose.

After two hours of driving the van moved onto rougher terrain. A few minutes later, the vehicle came to a stop and the van door's opened. Even with the additional light, I couldn't make out any of the attacker's faces. They didn't stay a word as they picked me up and took me into a house. I relaxed my body and kept my breathing steady, hoping to fool them into thinking I was asleep. It worked - I was thrown down into a basement alongside Cain's limp body. I shut my eyes quickly as my blindfold was removed and tried not to cough as my gag was taken out. As our kidnappers departed up the basement stairs, I dared a glance. There were three of them - all male and all huge. Without Cain, I wouldn't stand a chance against them.

"Shit." I gritted my teeth as my zip-tie binds cut into my skin. After a couple more pulls, the pain became unbearable so I stopped and looked around the room.

The only source of light came from a dim lightbulb dangling from the centre of the ceiling. The one small rectangular window at the top of the wall opposite from me let in some light from the streetlamp outside. Other than that, the room was bare, save from a thin layer of dust that coated the floor. Three sets of footprints led from the basement door to Cain's and my location.

"Cain?" I whispered. There was no reply. I called his name again, this time a barely audible moan came in response.

"Cain, wake up," I said, as loud as I dared.

My legs were still bound, so I shuffled awkwardly on my bum to Cain's position. With my hands tied behind my back, I had no option but to kick him gently with my feet.

"Cain, wake the fuck up," I hissed through the darkness.

"Mhmm -- Don't want..." Cain mumbled, followed by a few more intelligible sounds.

"Cain!" I yelled, forgetting for a moment that I was trying to keep quiet. The longer we were down here, the harder it would be to escape. I needed Cain's help.

Cain coughed and rose slowly. He turned his face to me, "What?"

"Jesus," I murmured as I examined Cain's face, "What the hell did they do to you?"

The question was rhetorical. One look at Cain's face and I knew exactly what had been done to it. Someone had hit his head repetitively to the point where one eye didn't open. His nose sat askew from the rest of his face and his lip was split. The whole left side of his face was turning a deep shade of purple. I felt a little guilty for kicking him.

"Cain, listen to my voice. Focus," I said calmly, trying to keep eye contact with him. It wasn't easy; his head drooped periodically and his one good eye blinked dumbly as he tried to focus on my face. He shook his head, trying to stay awake.

"Cain, you need to reach into my shoe. There's a dagger in there," I instructed him as I manoeuvred myself so that he could reach. Rustling accompanied his movement as he turned around so that his hands were facing me. A second later, I felt him pull the dagger from my shoe.